Tuesday, May 29, 2007


We had a beautiful time yesterday. Friends from church took us to a place they've gone hiking before and we spent the morning and part of the afternoon there. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. We hiked up the side of a hill along a river bank with wildflowers growing all around. I couldn't identify most of them but I did spot a wild iris growing by the side of the path. It was cream colored with mustard stripes--one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. We also saw wild roses and ferns. At one point we stopped by a huge old tree that had fallen across the path. Someone had cut the trunk so that hikers could walk through. I counted the rings--aproximately 326 years old. Think about that. That's 1681. Jamestown and Plymouth were about 60 years old. So much history contained in that tree's life--and it wasn't even a really big one.

We had lunch by a small waterfall that went streaming down to the river below. One of us read "Brothers Karamazov" (it wasn't me!) and the rest of us just enjoyed the day. Finally we turned around and hiked back to the cars where we returned to the city. It was one of those days that will remain planted in my heart. Nothing very exciting happened. I didn't get married, or die, or find a diamond in the ground. But it nourished my soul in ways I can't even express.


Anonymous said...

I hat to vust you bubble, but a ring in a tree dosn't always mean a year. In fact, it rarely does. It's a common myth. :-P


MaureenE said...

VB! I shall never forgive you!!! (JK dear. :))

That is distinctly NOT oojah cum spiff.